Lie to Me
by InNeedOfInspiration
Summary: An AoU fanfiction. Steve shuts himself away after his conversation with Bruce during the party. That is until an unexpected red-haired visitor joins him and suggests to play an innocent game.
1. Part 1: Lie to Me

It was almost midnight, the party was still full on, or maybe it wasn't, he was not sure. He had gone onto the balcony to get some air and think, and now he didn't really want to go back inside. Maybe the party was almost over, but the truth was he didn't really care anymore. He didn't feel like partying. Not since he had advised another guy to go after the woman he wanted.

He winced at his own choice of words. Bruce wasn't another guy, he was his teammate, he was his ally, he was, to some extent, a friend. No, Banner wasn't any guy; he was a bright scientist, a man with values and morals, he was more of a pacifist than a fighter if it weren't for his alter ego.

It was for all these reasons that he had stepped in this evening. Bruce was this righteous, nonbelligerent person, and Natasha had seen it. She had found plenty of reasons to fall for Bruce, and that made a big, valid reason for him to see them, too. He valued her opinion way too much to frown upon, or even question, her choice.

They hadn't talked about it, though. Natasha had turned out to be highly discreet and secretive when it came to her love life. Their discussions were always friendly, flowing naturally, but yet always futile. He hated it, he hated to watch her slowly, but inevitably, drift away from him. And those conversations, with time, became more and more rare. Every step further she took from him was a step closer she was taking towards Bruce. He could see it, he could see how he was slowly losing her.

But tonight, he had lost her for good. He had watched them interact from afar; like he had been doing for the past weeks. He had first ignored but noticed their random discussions become more and more frequent. Then he had noticed the shy smiles, the spontaneous glances, the chuckles. Her seductive smirk. Her _genuine_ seductive smirk. He had seen her care for him during the missions. He had witnessed the random lullaby progressively drift into a moment of intimacy. And one day, one day, her smirk became a tender smile, and this was when he knew. This was when he know he had lost her. When he had seen her step out of her Black Widow persona and just be Nat.

The others did not have a clue, though. And how could they? We were talking about Black Widow falling in love, here. She was doing it like she was chasing a prey: in silence and in the dark. It had even escaped Clint's sharp eye; Clint, the Hawkeye; Clint, her best friend. Steve kept the secret; not that he really wanted to, but because he had hoped Natasha saw at least a friend in him and would eventually confide in. She never did. She would pat his shoulder, sometimes bring up Sharon in the conversation, then she would leave just as quickly as she had come. Their friendship from the time they were chasing Hydra seemed like an elusive memory. Or perhaps an entire delusion.

He hadn't planned on saying about it, tonight, but as he watched them talking across the bar, Natasha openly flirting and Bruce looking like he didn't have a clue, he gave up on the idea of her ever getting her back. Natasha had chosen a man, and this man wasn't him. He had secretly hoped to be her choice, just like he had hoped Peggy would want him. But here was his problem when it came to love, Steve did nothing more but hope. He had lost time with Peggy, he had missed his chance with Natasha. And now, he was full of regrets. And because he was -and had promised to stay, a good man; because he had sworn to remain that kid from Brooklyn, and because he wanted Nat to be happy, he decided he wouldn't let Bruce miss his chance either. After all, if she had chosen him, he certainly deserved her.

He waited for her to walk away then he went up to Banner. He propped his elbow on the bar and took a deep breath in. He always used to take deep breaths in before getting a punch in the 1940s.

"That's nice", he said as casually as he possibly could.

And at that moment, it sucked to be a good man.

Right after their talk, Steve had headed to the balcony to take some time alone and definitely say goodbye to Natasha. He smiled to himself, leaning on the railing, while holding his beer. He felt foolish to have even believed he had a chance with her. Natasha was intelligent, sarcastic, funny, gorgeous, strong and fragile, independant. She was out of reach, quite simply. Out of his reach.

"Steve", he could recognize her voice anywhere.

He slowly turned his head and looked at Natasha as she walked up to him in her usual alluring and confident way.

"What are you doing here on your own?", she asked with a smirk, "Stark would hate to know you're not enjoying the hell out of his party."

"Oh but I am", he said dully, without looking at her, and drinking up the last sip of beer.

She didn't say a word, then leaned onto the railings, right beside him. He could almost feel her naked arm brushing against the fabric of his shirt. He blamed himself immediately for having such a lustful thought for a woman who was taken. Taken by his friend.

She observed him from the corner of her eye as he silently stared into the horizon.

"Let's play a game", she said as she flipped around, before leaning her back against the railings and looking at him. She seemed amused.

He sighed. Another futile conversation.

"I'm not in a mood for a game", he commented flatly.

"Which is exactly why we should do it", she concluded with a smirk. His eyes surrendered and flicked her way. He didn't want to play, but he just couldn't say no. Especially now that he knew it was probably one of the last few conversations they would ever have. "I was about to propose a truth game but we both know you'd win hands down because you can't lie." He rolled his eyes and let out a dull snort. "Three questions each. I say the truth. You answer with a lie. Sound convincing."

He agreed with a shrug.

"Did you really practice kissing since 1945?", she could not have hidden her playful smirk even if she had wanted.

"Seriously?", he protested.

"Come on, Rogers. It's the game."

He eyed her with furrowed brows, then he nodded slightly.

"I had plenty of practise", he sighed. Natasha smirked. It was the answer she was expecting.

"I knew it!", she confirmed out loud.

"Can we, at least, avoid the comments?", he grumbled. She mimed zipping her mouth and throwing the key over the railing. She then leaned over the edge and pretended to follow its fall with deep amazement. It made him smile.

"Fine. Since you keep bugging me with it, then let me ask again. Was it that bad?" the corner of his mouth rose a little.

She looked straight at him, defying him with her eyes, to doubt her answer.

"It was quite pleasant. But certainly too short to give you a solid answer", she chuckled then turned around to face the view again. He snorted bitterly.

"Did you call the nurse like I told you to?", she asked less lightly, but looking calm and hopeful.

Her question stung him. Why did she always have to bring everything back to his dating life? Did she suspect him to have a look on her and was it her attempt at ending it?

"I did", he answered, "we had a date and it went very well. I plan on asking her out again, soon."

Natasha had a look he certainly did not expect. She seemed disappointed, almost hurt, as if he had just given her the wrong answer. She nodded, nonetheless, then looked away for a short moment.

"Where did you go when you said you had to get yourself a new cover?", he asked.

"Singapore", she said, "I knew someone there who could help me go unnoticed for a few months. I only stayed a couple of weeks then I went to Europe."

He wanted to ask if she had been doing alright during her exile but it would have made uncomfortable. Natasha never spoke of her feelings.

"Last question", he said, kind of relieved.

"Alright", she started casually, then taking a brief pause to think of a question, "Why did you tell Bruce to go for it?"

Her question -which was everything but unplanned, startled him.

"H-How?", he asked.

"Rogers, I was trained to keep an eye and an ear everywhere", she answered dryly, annoyed to be underestimated, it seemed.

"I'm sorry", he said, "I didn't mean to sound intrusive. I was just trying to-"

"Just answer the question, Rogers", she cut in. She finally looked up at him and he saw hurt in her eyes. He could not really tell why, though.

"I told Bruce because you both deserve to be unhappy. I thought if I could slow things down between you two, it would be for the worst."

He sighed internally. That had to be the silliest game Natasha had ever come up with.

She bit her bottom lip, processing a piece of information he had clearly failed to grasp, somehow.

"Of course", she murmured, "you're Captain America, you always do what's best."

She gulped down the rest of her champagne, nearly half of the glass.

"Well, that was enlightening", she said to herself then, without a look, started towards the doors.

"Nat", he called, clasping the railing in frustration as he watched her walk away. He was having a bad combination of bitterness, sorrow and now confusion.

"Why did you leave?", he then blurted out. She froze in motion. "I could have been there for you. You know I would have stood by your side, no matter what. You know I would have fought them all to defend your name. Why did you run away?"

"I ran away from you!", she cried out as she flipped around to face him. She held up a limp arm in his direction. "I mean look at you, look at me. I'm damaged. In every possible way a person can be. I didn't stand a chance. So I had to think of the best way to not have my heart broken."

Her voice was weak, filled with sorrow, fighting to get enough strength to voice out those words.

"Yes, I ran away, but only to escape a broken heart. That's one more damage I would rather prevent."

"And Bruce?", he breathed out, dreading the answer he would get.

She closed her eyes like her lids haf gotten too heavy to keep up. "That makes four questions", she whispered with a sad smile. He looked at her pleadingly. "Bruce is a wonderful, damaged person. We understand each other in a deep, miserable way; and I know I can help fix him."

She allowed herself to let one single tear fall down. Only one tear of weakness to mourn her tragic condition, to grieve for an enviable future she could never get. And then she crushed it. She wiped her tear away before it reached her cheek, and she became strong Natasha, again.

"Nat", he called out, painfully, still processing this whole new perspective of their complicated story, physically in pain to assess how low she thought of herself.

He ran up after her and gently held her elbow, forcing her to face him.

"Ask me how I feel about you", he pressed her to demand, "Nat, ask me what I feel for you."

She smirked sadly, expecting an answer she knew she wouldn't like. An answer that would never enough.

"Fine", she whispered, "What do you feel for me?"

He took a deep breath in.

"I feel absolutely nothing for you and this is why seeing you grow closer to Banner physically soothed me. This is also for the same exact reason why I called my neighbor and why I called every other woman you ever suggested I should take out on a date. Because you're not the one haunting my thoughts. Because the prospect of seeing you makes my bright day go darker. Because you make me ache for my past life even harder. Because you make every thing more gloomy and painful. Because this life here _sucks_ knowing you're in it", she chuckled lightly, half-amused, haf-sad. He didn't know for sure. Natasha was pretty hard to read and to understand and that was how she had unwillingly compelled him. He gently cupped her cheek and stroked her delicate skin with his thumb, "Natasha, you have to be the most...boring, predictable woman I was ever unfortunate to cross path with. And I need you to believe me when I say that I could never fall in love with you."

His eyes screamed the contrary and he soon overwhelmed her by this excess of singular frankness. She rose on her toes and gently captured his lips. The kiss was first soft and shy, then it became eager, giving away the secret longing they had to touch again since that day on the escalator. His kiss apologized profusely for letting her think she was not worthy and promised to worship her till his last breath; her kiss took passionately what she had forbidden herself to claim.

When they eventually pulled away for air, their bodies radiating heat despite the cool wind of the night, she plunged her look into his piercing blue eyes and smiled.

"This has to be the most romantic thing any man has ever said to me", she whispered against his lips then leaned in to taste his insatiable love some more.


	2. Part 2: Finding the truth

Her lips escaped without any warning, and she vanished as swiftly as she had been taught to do, walking back into the shadow, leaving him numb and confused. He was both drunk and insatiable for the taste of her mouth. His heart was begging for more, his reason was scolding him he had had enough.

He watched her from afar for the rest of the night, his heartbeat racing every time she appeared in his line of sight; a lump tightening in his throat every time he caught a glimpse of Bruce. All shades of tacit smiles were exchanged that night. Banner smiled at her, beaming and shy; she smiled back, modest and apologetic. When he smiled at him, Steve would twist the corners of his mouth, shameful, guilty and perhaps envious, as well. Natasha had made her choice, it seemed. She had probably already labelled their kiss on the terrace a mistake and thrown their moment into oblivion.

When Ultron attacked, Steve instinctively reached for Natasha. He found her to have already reached for Bruce and hidden him with her behind the bar. After the fight, after every defective robot had been taken down, his eyes searched for Nat and check up on her. He knew she managed herself, like she always did, but still he had to check.

The party was over. The Avengers gathered in the office to talk till the very early hours of the morning, then headed to their private rooms. Steve did not sleep. He spent the last few hours of the night staring at the ceiling; thinking of Ultron, haunted by Natasha.

The first battle against Ultron and his two allies was a failure. The robot had escaped them, the Hulk had been released into the city, their minds had been played.

Returning to the time he came from, walking among his fellow soldiers, seeing Peggy; his hallucination affected him more than he would let his teammates know. And from what he could see, they were all shaken up, too. The Avengers all walked out, bemused, bitter, defeated. At least, Barton got to walk 'home'. Hawkeye was the only one who could boast about having one.

Steve had lost the notion of 'home' a long time ago. He was the only one lost in his boundless solitude. Clint had his family. Stark had Pepper. Thor didn't really belong in this world either, but he had his realm, his people, his friends. Far away, he had a place he could call home. And here, he had Jane. Banner and Romanoff had each other.

He saw her go upstairs to have a shower despite the fact Banner hadn't come down yet. This simple glimpse was enough to rise a sour taste in the back of his mouth. He rushed outside and almost bumped into Mrs Barton.

"Is there anything I can do to help outside?" he asked with a bitter smile that barely concealed the stern tone of his voice.

"Well..." she started hesitantly, "I thought I could make a fire tonight. We might need some wood."

"Thanks ma'am," he said gratefully, racing down the stairs towards the closest axe.

"Hmm...a couple of logs should be enough," she exclaimed from the porch.

He chopped more than a couple of logs. First five, then ten, then twenty, then he eventually stopped counting when his mind shut down enough to block the vision of Banner and Romanoff in the bedroom. He focused on the hallucination of Peggy instead and the dance his mind had entirely fabricated from his wildest -and saddest- fantasies. This hurt him too, but he could cope with this pain better. This was until Stark came and saved him from all this mental nuisance. For a short moment. Only for a short moment. Until the word 'home' was uttered and made him snap.

Later that night, after Fury left, Steve went sit in the chair out on the porch.

He heard faint footsteps he could recognize anywhere come onto the porch. She sat on the chair next to him and looked at the sky, too. The orientation and proximity of the two chairs indicated that was probably a habit of the Bartons to spend the evening outside together while the kids were asleep.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she eventually broke the silence.

"About what?" he asked as he seemed incapable of gathering enough strength to turn and look at her.

"About what you saw in your vision," she said earnestly. He could tell she wanted to comfort him, "We all need to share."

Those last words burned him inside his chest.

"Did you share yours with Banner?" he asked then bit his tongue right after. He dreaded the inevitability of the answer.

"Yes," she replied with a whispering voice.

It upset him more than he had mentally prepared for. He swallowed the lump in his throat, locking his gaze into the darkness of the sky.

"Because you value him more?" he asked, slightly shaking his head, realizing how little he had changed from being that skinny boy from Brooklyn. Serum or no serum.

"Because I don't want you to value me any less," she murmured, "there are things you shouldn't know about me."

She had just spoken a foreign language to him. As much as he semantically understood them, he could not comprehend them.

"I want to know all about you," he murmured back with the most genuine selflessness, "I'm not afraid of what I could find out. I know what your value is."

"I know," she said matter-of-factly, "but I can't take that risk. That's how weak I am."

He heard her smirk lightly.

"You're not weak," he denied strongly.

"So I thought until tonight," she whispered.

They went silent again, listening to the sound of the leaves quivering under the touch of the wind. She didn't want to tell him more, he had heard enough to understand her point. He wanted to fight it, he wanted to convince her she was wrong to feel this way but he also knew her silence meant she had ended this conversation. She had preferred to confide in to Bruce and he accepted it. He disapproved strongly of her reasons but he respected her choice.

He wanted to ask her if that meant she had officially chosen Banner but it was like implying she was a player. He knew she would never even think about playing with their feelings. He didn't doubt she would let him know one way or another.

"Whatever she showed you in that vision, it does not define you," Natasha said with a calm but stern voice.

He exhaled loudly.

"How can you be so sure of it? You don't even know what I saw," he said whilst two of his fingers started to tap lightly against the wicker armrest in a nervous twitch.

"Because I know what your value is," she echoed his words, "and I trust you to find a way to defeat this narcissistic can and its two minions."

If only it was that easy. He could have believed her words this morning, but not tonight. Not after finding out he was a prisoner of his past.

"I'm afraid I'll fail you like I failed anyone I ever cared for" he gasped, reminiscing the fake memories from his vision, recalling dear memories from his former life. He shook his head and regained his composure, "I'm afraid we can't defeat Ultron; not without suffering loss in our side."

 _'Not suffering some loss in our line,'_ he had been close to blurt out. He had fought hard enough and lost too much to learn when human sacrifices were awaiting him.

He felt her fingertips graze the skin of his forearm as they reached for his hand. Her fingers naturally slid between his like they had been genetically made to intertwine with each other. Two even separated parts which were finally becoming whole again.

She didn't have to say a word; she had just let him know how much she trusted him to lead them right and to win this fight by clutching his hand in sign of faith.

Despite the strictly amicable perspective that this gesture revealed, he chose to push it aside and focused on the moment. He held her hand gently and it soothed him deep in his flesh. This night on the porch overshadowed the blindingly painful day he had gone through. His warrior heart had finally found peace...in the palm of her hand.

The next morning, before everybody had gathered for breakfast in the living room, Natasha made him swear to focus on the mission no matter what might happen to her.

"If something happens to me, promise me you will not let me be a distraction to your mission," she said firmly, standing tall and square before him.

He opened his mouth, ready to protest, but she hushed him by gently pressing her hands on each side of his face.

"Do not let me distract you. You won't fail me; I'll save me, Rogers." Black Widow was back, and she had orders. "Like I always did."

Her large green eyes dived into his and submitted him to her will with undisputable arguments that needn't be said. He had no doubt she was the most resourceful and dangerous member of his team with the most dangerous skills. Another thing of hers he had seen up close.

Her hands dropped off his face and left a void then she took a step back before his hearing had finished transmitting the electrical signal to his brain that someone was coming in the room. Not only her brain had time to do it, but it had also identified the unexpected visitor before getting a visual. Bruce.

Natasha flicked an eye one last time in his direction as conclusive note to their discussion then she went sit at the kitchen table.

"I've lost Natasha. Do you see Natasha?," Clint alarmingly asked in his hearing piece.

He allowed panic to overwhelm for one second. A miserly instant for a man claiming to have feelings, a priceless eternity for Captain America on an uncontrollable full speed train full of civilians. One second would have to do. And then, just as he promised, he muffled the screaming anguish in his head. He gagged it with the unshakable faith he had in the Black Widow's survival instinct.

 _'Do as Natasha said,'_ he mentally hammered himself. And soon it worked.

"If you got the package, go," he ordered firmly to Clint.

His mind was quiet, now. Not entirely, though. Never entirely. Nat would just never have to know about it.

Natasha obviously didn't disappoint. He eventually saw her again fighting against a robot, strong and tenacious as if she hadn't just come through hours of captivity. He jolted his shield at her and ran up to her side.

Time was a privilege they couldn't afford at this moment. A smile had to suffice to convey all his relief. All his pride.

"You shouldn't have let Banner come to my rescue. I was doing perfectly fine by my own."

Guilty. He had deferred to Banner his rightfully own opportunity to put his self-loathing on hold and act like a hero. Not to Hulk, the Avenger; but to Bruce Banner, the physicist. He had given them an opportunity to enjoy one moment of peace for their reunion before going back to war.

"Rescue?" he smiled teasingly, "We needed an extra couple of hands up here on the field."

She smirked at him with the corner of her mouth then crushed the crawling robot with a strong kick. They parted and went about their business.

Standing on the pile of burned and dusty remnants of the city, Steve was thinking of a way to save _everyone._ The civilians, his teammates, his newly reformed allies. And the Vision. Everything that wasn't metal... and evil.

The blue sky, the steady clouds. He could feel the stillness of the landscape getting into him. Who would have believed they were fighting the biggest menace to humankind only a few minutes before?

Natasha came stand by his side.

"These people are going nowhere. If Stark finds a way to blow this rock-"

"I am not leaving this rock with one civilian on it," he said determinedly.

"Bruce left," she retorted.

He turned to her to probe how she felt about it. She seemed disappointed but overall serene.

"Why didn't you?" he asked, "I know you want a normal life. And you deserve it."

"He asked me to," she confessed without difficulty, "but I remembered what you told me the other night on the terrace. You asked me why I ran away."

He shook his head.

"Nat, I was just bitter that night, I didn't-"

"You were right," she cut him off, "I run away. That's what I was taught to do and that's an easy pattern I fell into...I don't want to do this anymore. Not when someone taught me and made me want to stay."

He blinked, confused, then looked at her with an unsure quizzical stare. Her eyes were gazing into the horizon. Thoughtful. In peace with herself.

"Plus where else am I gonna get a view like this?" she mused out loud.

He looked at her with the utmost pride. Proud to have chosen her as an ally, a comrade, a friend, a lover.

And this was how she had chosen. Choosing him while also choosing her best version of herself. There was an immeasurable beauty in it.

"Even if I am to die a hero today," she added with a smirk, "I'm ready to risk my ticket to heaven by getting one last kiss."

The intensity of her gaze, the genuine sparkle in her eyes, the naughty shadow behind which openly insinuated she was ready for more than just an innocent kiss filled him with the satisfaction of seeing his legendary patience finally overcome. For the first time ever in his life, it wasn't too late. For the first time ever, he hadn't missed his chance. Yes, even if that meant dying this very same day on that rock.

 _"Are you sure about that, Romanoff? I know relics that are younger than him. Me included,"_ they both heard the voice of Fury in their ear piece, watching in relief as the formerly S.H.I.E.L.D hellicarrier came into view.

Looked like he would live long enough to see tomorrow.

"Nick Fury, you son of a bitch," he smiled.

 _"Whoa ho ho! You kiss your mother with that mouth?"_


End file.
